by Roberta Curley

Double rainbows frame an inky sky
portending luck or
______crashing finality

an iPhone blares – it’s Lenox Hill
______Mom has lost to Covid
my firmament churns

I fixate on celestial arcs of
______purple pink and gold
awaiting a dark fate to unfold

yet craning my neck skyward
______I envision a piñata…filled with
Mom’s culinary eccentricities

I still taste her vodka-laced
______chicken soup and
bourbon spiked applesauce

her tequila tainted tacos
______though tantalizing, prove
ticklish on an empty stomach

her homemade treats,
lavished on me – her only child
______I knew nothing else

but Mom coaxed me to
act as first mate in her
“curious cuisine” conquests

my visions soon intensify
______as flashbacks of us
kaleidoscopically entwine

we’re flipping through
______piles of past pics –
starting with her wedding album

photos black and white
rousing as Handel’s organ keys
______or – Mom’s favorite scotch

______Mom’s legacy is truly
drenched with love …


Soft Kill

If it’s not alligators in Florida
______it’s Covid
If it’s not your 98-year-old father
______it’s Covid
If it’s not Loehmann’s gone out of business
______it’s Covid
If it’s not toilet paper being rationed
______it’s Covid
If it’s not Philip Seymour Hoffman overdosing
______it’s Covid
If it’s not Michael Jackson being overdosed
______it’s Covid
If it’s not Whitney Houston’s dulcet tones silenced
______it’s Covid
If it’s not Trump’s denial of the pandemic
______it’s Covid
If it’s not outlawing an eleven person gathering
______it’s Covid
If it’s not watching 330 million masks defiantly fly off
______it’s Covid
If it’s not possible to cut enough flowers for pandemic graves
______it will be Covid